


Flight School

by dashakay



Category: Battlestar Galactica (2003)
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-11-17
Updated: 2009-11-17
Packaged: 2017-10-03 04:17:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,125
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14095
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dashakay/pseuds/dashakay
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Eternally hot for teacher.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Flight School

"I like eating pussy," Kara announces, apropos of nothing. She watches with glee as President Roslin nearly spits out her drink and color rises in her face up to her hairline.

She likes to say outrageous things and it doesn't take a shrink to understand why. Of course a formerly neglected, abused child would be hungry for attention, whether positive or negative.

And she doesn't need a shrink to explain the type of woman she's attracted to. Her first crush was on Mrs. Watson, her first grade teacher. The first woman Kara ever slept with was her forty-two-year-old avionics instructor. She prefers her guys youngish, strapping and well-hung, but with women she's eternally hot for teacher.

"Do you realize you're talking to the President of the Twelve Colonies, Captain Thrace?" She adjusts her glasses.

Kara shrugs. "You can't pull rank here at Joe's. Here I'm just Kara and you're just Laura." She tops up Laura's glass with more whiskey.

"I see. Then do you realize I'm twenty years older than you?"

"I don't really see that as an obstacle, _Laura_." She clinks Laura's glass and downs a mouthful of liquor, grimacing at the taste, a delicate blend of sweat socks and rubbing alcohol. "In fact, I'd say it was one of your many charms."

Laura swallows, her eyes cast downward. Then she lifts her eyes directly to Kara. "Tell me more about this hobby of yours..."

This will be as easy as taking the proverbial candy from the proverbial baby. Laura is lonely, or else Kara wouldn't have found her here, sitting alone at a table and staring moodily into space. She suspects Laura's in love with the Old Man, but that's neither here nor there. Adama's not at Joe's tonight, _she_ is.

"I love eating pussy," Kara says, looking straight at Laura. "There's nothing like spreading a woman's legs open for the first time, like discovering buried treasure. I love the taste, the smell, the wetness on my tongue. Oh, and I'm really, really good at it." She reaches under the table and squeezes Laura's upper thigh. "Really good. Just ask Racetrack."

"You're married, Kara."

"That's a whole story I don't want to get into tonight." She truly doesn't want to delve into her current mess, not when she's feeling loose-limbed and confident, with a couple of drinks under her belt. Not when she's already getting wet at the prospect of burying her face in the president's cunt.

"Understood." Laura stands and straightens the jacket of her prim little gray suit. "Is there somewhere we can go?"

"There's _always_ somewhere," Kara says, trying not to smirk.

*

"Are you sure this is a good idea?" Laura asks.

Kara's already got Laura's skirt pulled up over her hips and her panties on the floor. Laura is so wet, slippery under her fingertips. "I told you, everyone is on duty tonight but me and they'd never betray the boots at the door code, anyhow. That's the first rule you learn in flight school."

Laura is sitting at the edge of the table, leaning back on her elbows, eyes all astonishment as Kara slips three fingers inside her.

"Ever made it with a woman before?" Kara asks.

Laura places her hand over Kara's, guiding her. She likes that Laura's not afraid to show her how to do it, how she wants to be touched. "No, never. I mean, I've thought about it, but..." Laura tips her head back and inhales deeply.

Gods, the president is practically soaking Kara's hand. "Then you don't know how good it can be," Kara says. "Soft, but hard at the same time."

She pulls up a chair and spreads Laura's legs wider. My, what a pretty cunt she has, all pink and glossy; a buffet that's hers for the taking. She can't wait any longer. She dives in face first, eagerly going for the gold. Laura's clit is fat under her tongue and apparently exquisitely responsive if the noises Laura is making are any judge.

Soft hands bury themselves in Kara's hair. Laura tastes wonderful, musky and sweet like a strange orange fruit Kara once tasted on an Aquarian beach vacation. Just like on that trip, juices run down Kara's chin.

What an interesting picture they must make, the president splayed out on the table, her suit jacket and heels still on, Kara wearing her tanks and fatigues, licking and sucking Laura's cunt. She wishes she had a camera handy to capture the moment.

Laura starts to buck her hips, pushing herself into Kara's face. "Ohhhh," Laura gasps.

Yeah, come on, Kara thinks, come for me. Come hard. Laura's fingers pull at Kara's hair, so hard it hurts, but she barely notices as she feels Laura shudder around her.

She lifts her head and licks her lips to enjoy the last of Laura's taste. Laura sits up, breathing hard, and blinking behind her glasses. Her hair looks wild and her face is flushed. "My gods," she says, shaking her head as if she can't believe what just happened, "where did you learn to do that?"

"Major Karen Jackson," Kara says with a grin. "Best instructor I had in flight school."

Laura jumps off the table and pulls her panties up and skirt down. "You're a bad girl, Kara."

"It's not news to me."

"What time will the others return?" Laura glances at the clock.

"Not for three hours." She stands and starts unbuttoning Laura's gray jacket. "We have plenty of time."

*

Kara wishes she were the kind of girl to kiss and tell. Wouldn't Hot Dog and Narcho and all their macho buddies like to hear about how she had the president flat on her back in her rack, naked as the day she was born? But Kara will never tell. It's more fun to keep secrets.

Laura has a nice body for an old broad. Hell, a nice body for _any_ broad—trim waist, full breasts, slender legs that seem to go on forever. She must drink the blood of virgins or something to keep looking so young. The only hint of her true age is the lines around her eyes. The Old Man is a moron for missing out.

This is even better than the times she's fantasized about the president, her hand shoved down her underpants. The president in her rack, glasses off, hair spread all over her pillow. Kara's in charge here and Laura is begging her with her eyes to be properly frakked. How did she ever get so lucky?

She reaches for the small box behind the bed that holds her toys. "I'm gonna frak you so hard, Laura," she says, pulling out a leather harness and a thick black dildo. "You'll forget your name."

Soft, but strong fingers wrap around Kara's wrist. "No," Laura rasps.

"What do you mean, no? You know you want it."

Laura sits up and something has changed in her eyes. There's a new look there, one Kara has seen before in the CIC and the Situation Room—determination and command. "You told me that rank didn't count for anything at Joe's. But it counts here in the Officer's Quarters, _Captain_."

A shiver runs up Kara's spine. "And?"

"I'm going to frak _you_." Laura tugs the harness out of Kara's hand.

"Nope. That's not how it works. _I_ do the frakking around here." She's in charge, she runs the show. She'll let men frak her, but never woman. And she doesn't need psychoanalysis to explain that one to her, either.

Laura quirks an eyebrow. It's impressive how authoritative the president can still look without a stitch of clothing on. "Captain Thrace, you'd refuse an order from your Commander-in-Chief?"

Kara raises her chin. "No, sir." She's a soldier, after all.

"Then I suggest you get those panties off." Laura fits the dildo into the harness and manages to wiggle into the straps. She begins buckling it into place.

She pulls off her panties and bra. Kara is shaking a little, although she doesn't quite know why. She wants this and she doesn't want it and Lords, she's getting so wet just at the thought.

"Good girl." Laura reaches to pinch one of Kara's nipples. "As you can see, I like to have my orders followed." She leans into Kara and kisses her, deeply and softly.

It occurs to Kara that before this moment, they hadn't even kissed. It feels more intimate to kiss Laura than licking her cunt or shoving her fingers in her as deep as they'd go.

Laura lays Kara back on the rack, runs her fingers up and down Kara's skin. "Nice," she murmurs, as if she's talking to herself. "I suspected you had a beautiful body under that uniform. Muscular but still feminine."

She parts Kara's thighs with her hand and strokes her mound. Kara spreads her legs wider, electric current running through her body as Laura finds her clit and strokes it with painful slowness.

"More," Kara gasps, lifting her hips to meet Laura's hand.

"You're greedy." Laura hovers over her, sucking Kara's nipple while a long finger wiggles inside her pussy.

She's embarrassed at the sounds she's beginning to make, little whimpering noises as Laura fraks her with her fingers. Kara's never let a woman touch her like this, although many have tried.

Laura lifts her head and smiles. "Like that, do you?"

Kara nods.

"Then you'll like this even better." Laura grabs the base of the dildo and Kara feels it press against her opening. "Tell me what you want, Kara."

"I want to be frakked." It almost hurts to admit it.

The dildo slides deep inside her and Kara tilts her head back and moans. This is somehow different than being frakked by Sam or Lee or another guy. Laura's skin is so soft, her breasts brushing against Kara's as she thrusts into her. She wraps her legs around Laura's waist to bring her deeper inside.

Laura sucks on Kara's neck so hard Kara's afraid she'll be sporting a hickey the next day. She's driving hard into Kara's pussy now, pushing her into the thin mattress. Kara grabs Laura's ass, meeting every thrust with one of her own. Her clitoris throbs as it brushes against Laura's body. She hears Laura babbling something, speaking an ancient, unknown language, and Kara joins her, lost somewhere in the reaches of uncharted space.

"Oh, frak...I'm coming," Laura cries out, driving frantically into Kara and that's it, Kara is coming, too, an endless rush more powerful than a handful of stims or shooting down an entire squadron of Raiders.

Laura stills, panting and blinking down at Kara. "Gods," she breathes.

"Gods," Kara agrees.

"You're something else, Kara Thrace," she says, collapsing next to her.

Kara smirks. "And you're a frakking liar, Laura Roslin."

"Hmm, how so?"

"Never been with a woman before my _ass_. You knew just how to get that harness on. My first time, took me a good ten minutes to figure out those damn straps."

"But wasn't it more fun when you thought you were corrupting me?" Laura giggles.

"Abso-frakking-lutely."

"It's no fun to destroy illusions." Laura sits up and finds her glasses. "I suppose I'd better get back to _Colonial One_. I have a Quorum meeting in the morning." She hops out of the rack and starts searching for her clothes.

Kara tries to smooth her hair, which feels like it's standing on end. "Sure you don't want to stay a while longer?"

"It's probably best that I go." Laura slips her feet into her black pumps. "Do I look decent?"

"Yeah."

"Do I look like I've been frakking?"

"Definitely." Kara laughs. She tosses her Laura her hairbrush. "You'd better do something about that bed-head."

"Thanks." Laura goes to the mirror and fixes her hair.

Kara gets out of the rack and dresses. "That was fun," she says.

Laura walks over to her, looking every inch the president again. "Yes, it was."

"I never let a woman do that to me before."

"I figured as much." Laura smiles. "Good. I like to be memorable." She kisses Kara on the cheek. "And you, my dear, were _definitely_ memorable."

Laura opens the hatch a bit and peeks out. "I think the coast is clear." She slips out the door and Kara hears her heels clacking down the passageway.

Kara pulls her boots inside and tosses them in her locker. She finds her flask and takes a big swig of moonshine. She sits down at the table, unable to believe Laura was once sitting right there, her legs spread wide for Kara.

I frakked the president, she thinks. And she frakked me. Boy, did she ever.

She whistles all the way down the corridor to the showers.

END


End file.
